


In that old blue dress she stole my breath and lit my world on fire

by SummerSnow888



Series: And out of all these things I've done, I think I love you better now [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time in Wonderland (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 12:22:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerSnow888/pseuds/SummerSnow888
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Will Scarlet talks about his feelings to get a bloody dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In that old blue dress she stole my breath and lit my world on fire

 

 

 

Rumplestiltskin looks up from his ledgers as the bell over the door jingles.  His greeting, however, dies in his throat when he sees just who it is walking into his shop.

"Ah, the Knave of Hearts," he drawls. "What brings you into my shop?"

"Umm...errr..."

"Come to return something you stole?"

At this, the young man's brows furrow indignantly.

"Hey! I ain't never stolen anything from you!"

"Oh, is that so?" He knows the Knave of Hearts hasn't taken anything from him before, he doubts the young man would still be walking freely if he had. Or be walking at all.  But it’s quite amusing to watch the young man fluster about.

“Yeah!”

"If you insist. Now, what did you come here for? Surely it wasn't just to proclaim your innocence."

"Yeah, about that, er...well, you see, Mr. Gold-Rumplestiltskin-sir, I came to apologize and all."

Rumplestiltskin arches an eyebrow.

"For what? You said you didn't steal anything, and I am inclined to believe you on that count."

"No, not for stealing, it's just..." the Knave inhales deeply, as if struggling on the verge of telling him his darkest secret.

"Well? Spit it out, boy, I don't have all day."

When calling the Knave "boy" fails to draw so much as a glare from him, Rumplestiltskin begins to feel an edge of apprehension crawl up his spine.  Was the Alice girl in some sort of danger? He'd grown fond of the girl, a fondness not unlike that one might feel for a long-estranged niece.

"AlicegotdrunklastnightandpressedherfingersandnosetotheglasseventhoughItoldhernottoandI'mreallysorrypleasedon'tturnusintofrogsI'llcleanitup," the Knave blurts out breathlessly. A silence grows to fill the distance between them, yawning like a ravine in space and suspending time. Well, at least he now knows how those prints got onto the glass and who they belonged to. "Oh. And she really wanted the dress in the window," he adds sheepishly, hands jammed into the pockets of his leather jacket and shoulders shrugged up to his ears.

Rumplestiltskin is quite tempted to assure the young man that he will not, in fact, be transfigured into a frog (that's more Regina's style, anyways), especially since the Knave looks so abjectly miserable, looks so much like Bae did as a child when he was caught stealing sweet biscuits before supper. But it's simply so much more fun to keep the boy on tenterhooks a while longer.

"The window is easily fixed, I suppose, so no worries on that count." The boy's shoulders visibly relax and he comes so close to letting out a sigh of relief. "But that dress..." The boy tenses up again and makes a valiant attempt to shrink into the collar of his jacket. "How badly do you want it?"

"Well, um...uh...the thing is..." The Knave inhales sharply through his nose and pulls himself upright, squaring his shoulders and looking straight into Rumplestiltskin's eyes. "Alice really wants that bloody dress, and I ain't got a bloody idea why, but she does want it, so I'm going to get it for her, no matter what it takes."

Rumplestiltskin secretly praises the boy for this most impressive display of courage.

"And how do you propose compensating me for this dress? Surely you wouldn't come here asking for something from me without being able to pay."

"I've got money." The boy pulls out an envelope of what Rumplestiltskin assumes is cash and hands it over. "And if that don't cover it, I can work."

Rumplestiltskin takes the envelope and opens it, scanning over the wad of bills inside.

"That's a pretty bit of cash right there." He looks up at the boy, hiding his suspicion. "Where'd you get it?"

"That's none of your business," the boy declares. "Sir," he adds hastily.

Rumplestiltskin narrows his eyes and the boy pales a little.

"I got it from betting on Alice winning the drinking competition, down at the pub."

"You expect me to believe that Alice, wee little Alice, won a drinking competition against the dwarves?"

"I'm bein' honest, sir!"

Rumplestiltskin knows, of course. He's been hearing tales of fey Alice Liddell downing twenty-eight shots of vodka, drinking the dwarves under the table. He simply had no idea that the boy made so much money from the incident. He casts a contemplative once-over at the boy and looks back and forth between him and the cash.

"Boy, do you know how much that dress is worth?"

"...a whole bloody lot?"

Rumplestiltskin lets out a bark of laughter.

“That dress is fairy-made, boy. Fairy-made and fairy-blessed."

He takes a deep satisfaction in watching the youthful bravado drain out of the boy's face.

"Bloody hell...what's it doing here, then? And how come it ain't ever been in your window before?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

The boy scowls and scuffs the tip of his boot against the floor.

"How is it blessed, then? Or is that 'none of my bloody business' either?"

Rumplestiltskin frowns. He had forgotten how mouthy boys like the Knave could be. Although he wasn't sure how he could've, given the amount of time he spent with Hook.

"Watch your tone, boy."

"Would you stop bloody calling me that?!?"

Rumplestiltskin slams the end of his walking stick into the ground with a resounding thud and the boy jumps. He stalks towards the Knave, who backs up against a wall and holds his hands up, palms out, in a conciliatory manner.

"Listen very carefully to me, boy," Rumplestiltskin snarls under his breath. "You donot get to tell me how to speak, not in my own shop. You come barging in here demanding a dress that you clearly cannot afford and could never afford short of selling your soul, then you have the nerve to talk back to me like an overgrown adolescent. Which you are. So I suggest you leave this shop right now before I lose my temper in a most spectacular fashion."

Rumplestiltskin can see the boy waver, his eyes darting to the door and back and to the door and back again.

"No."

Rumplestiltskin rears back in feigned surprise.

"What did you say, boy?"

"I'm not bloody leaving. I came for that dress, and I'm not leaving until I get the bloody dress. 'Specially if it's really blessed like you say it is."

"And why is that?" Rumplestiltskin asks, intrigued.

"Because Alice deserves all the happiness in her life. Her whole bloody life has been hell, and she could do with a fairy's blessing." The Knave says this with nary a waver in his voice, back ramrod-straight and eyes burning with a quiet determination.

"Be that as it may, there's still the matter of...compensation." Rumplestiltskin grins victoriously and the Knave scowls back.

"I told you, all that money there's yours."

"And I told you, it'snot nearly enough, boy."

"I'll work for you," the Knave offers, a tinge of desperation in his voice. "For free. I'll wash the windows til the day I die, I'll run errands, any errand, I'll -"

Rumplestiltskin holds up a hand to cut him off.

"Tell me, boy. What does the Alice girl mean to you?"

The Knave stares at him, eyebrows furrowed and jaw working slightly as he debates whether or not to speak. He turns to look at the dress, then down at his boots, then up at the ceiling, and inhales sharply, relenting.

"Bloody hell..." He shakes his head slowly. "She's all I've got. She's why I've got anything at all, really, the reason why I've even got anything to give, and I'll never stop owing her for that, not if I gave her a thousand blessed bloody dresses. She's the only reason why I'm here.  She's given me so many second chances, she's saved me so many bloody times, from everything. She's the best thing that ever happened to me, and I..." The Knave stops and swallows, staring back down at his boots.

"Yes?" Rumplestiltskin prompts, vaguely proud of how the whole thing is progressing.

"I love her," the Knave declares resolutely. "I love her more than anything.  So I've got to get her that bloody dress, because she's been bloody unhappy all her life, and now that she's finally happy, I don't want anyone taking that away from her, not even me.  I'll try bloody hard to keep her happy for the rest of her life, but if I can't do that for some reason, I want that blessing to keep her as happy as it can, because Alice doesn't need anyone hurting her no more.  And even if that dress has no blessing, Alice wanted it so damn badly last night, she almost cried when I pulled her away, and kicked me bloody hard for doing it, too, so maybe the bloody dress itself will make her happy enough, and that's all I want.  I just want Alice to be happy.  I love her."

Another silence passes between them, a little more awkwardly than the last.

"Can I stop there, or do I have to keep going?" The Knave asks, looking at Rumplestiltskin with pleading eyes. Rumplestiltskin looks him up and down.

"Take the dress. I'll keep the envelope."

The boy needs no prompting.  He immediately goes to take the dress off the mannequin and begins to leave the shop when he stops at the door, turns to give an awkward little jerk of the head, and walks out.

 

* * *

 

“I see the dress is gone.”

“So it is, Belle.  So it is.”

“Can I ask you a question, Rumple?”

“You already have.”

“Rumple.”

“Oh, go on.”

“Why’d you commission that dress, anyways?”

“For a very special purpose that will remain unknown to you.”

“It was for Alice, wasn’t it? There’s no one else in Storybrooke that would want that dress.”

“...If it was for Alice, I would’ve given it to her.  I wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of haggling with that insufferable boy.”

“How much did you sell it for, anyways? You wouldn’t sell something magical at a price that Will Scarlet could afford.”

“Here.”

“...Rumple, it’s not like you to take the short end of a deal like this. Why’d you let him have it?”

“...”

“Well?”

“...He reminds me of Bae...what in the name of the Enchanted Forest are you giggling about, Belle.”

“You’re going soft, Rumple.”

“Excuse me?!?”

“You had the fairies make that dress for Alice.  You’re fond of her, I know, and it’s no use hiding it. She’s a sweet girl, that Alice.  And you’ve got a soft spot for Will Scarlet, too.  I saw you haggling with him.  You were trying to make him man up a little, weren’t you?”

“...of course not, Belle.  I love you very much, but please don’t be ridiculous.”

“Whatever you say, dear.  Whatever you say.”

 

* * *

 

He'll never forget the way Alice's face lit up just for seeing him come in through the door, the way she runs up to him and throws her arms around his shoulders and exclaims how happy she is that she's back.  He'll never forget the way her jaw dropped when he held out the dress for her, or her ear-shattering squeal of pure delight (though to be fair, that squeal is still ringing in his ears, so he doubts he could forget if he tried).  

He'll never forget how she squeezed the life out of him and murmured thank-you a thousand times in his ear and crushed her lips against his.  He'll never forget how her lips feel, softly sliding over his, the tip of her tongue hesitantly sliding into his mouth, the hitch in her breath as he presses his fingertips into her back, the flowery smell of her hair, the tip of her nose bumping against his cheek.

He'll never forget the way she looked in that dress, beaming so widely, twirling around and making the skirts twirl with her, practically glowing (she may really be glowing, he isn't too sure how fairy magic works), looking like a princess straight of a fairy tale.

He'll never forget how her face lit up  _even more_ (as if it were possible) when he told her so.

He'll never forget how that dress looked sliding off her creamy freckled shoulders and onto the floor later that night.

But mostly, he'll never forget how happy Alice was through the whole thing.  He never wants to forget, never wants to remember another time when she's not this happy.


End file.
